AT SINGING TIME*

BY ANNE P. L. FIELD

I have a little daughter

Who's scarcely half-past three And in the twilight hour

She climbs upon my knee

And snuggles down within my arm With "Mother, sing to me!"

The light grows faint, and fainter;
The sandman guards the door;
My baby's boat drifts slowly
Upon the slumber shore-

But if the singing stops, she cries, "O Mother, sing some more!"

I'm sure no prima-donna

Adored from East to West,

Feels half the satisfaction,
Or is so truly blest

As I, when singing to my child
Held closely to my breast.

Not all the fame and glory
Of divas can compare

With that deep thrill of pleasure
Which is my humble share,
For precious are the laurel-wreaths
That singing-mothers wear!

* By permission of "The Independent."

JAPANESE LULLABY *

BY EUGENE FIELD

Sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings,-
Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes;

Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swinging-
Swinging the nest where her little one lies.

Away out yonder I see a star,

Silvery star with a tinkling song;

To the soft dew falling I hear it calling-
Calling and tinkling the night along.

In through the window a moonbeam comes,—
Little gold moonbeam with misty wings;
All silently creeping, it asks: "Is he sleeping-
Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings?

Up from the sea there floats the sob

Of the waves that are breaking upon the shore,

As though they were groaning in anguish, and moaning

Bemoaning the ship that shall come no more.

But sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings,-
Little blue pigeon with mournful eyes;
Am I not singing?-see, I am swinging-
Swinging the nest where my darling lies.
* By permission of Charles Scribner's Sons.

CRADLE SONG

BY THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH

Ere the moon begins to rise
Or a star to shine,

All the blue bells close their eyes -
So close thine,

Thine, dear, thine!

Birds are sleeping in the nest
On the swaying bough,

Thus, against the mother-breast

So sleep thou,

Sleep, sleep, thou!

GO SLEEP, MA HONEY

BY EDWARD D. BARKER

Whipp'will's singin' to de moon,

Go sleep, ma honey, m m.

He sing a pow'ful mo'nful tune,

Go sleep, ma honey, m-m. De day bird's sleepin' on his nes', He know it time to take a res', An' he gwine ter do his lebel bes', Go sleep, ma honey, m m.

Old banjo's laid away,

Go sleep, ma honey, mm.
It's pickin's froo for to-day,-

Go sleep, ma honey, m— m.
De night time surely come to pass,
De cricket's chirpin' in de grass,
An' de ole mule's gone to sleep at las',—
Go sleep, ma honey, mm.

I hear de night win' in de corn,-
Go sleep, ma honey, m―m.

Dey's a ghos' out dah, sure's yo born,—
Go sleep, ma honey, mm.

But he dassent come where we keep a light,
An' de candle's burnin' all de night,

So sink to res', des be all right,-
Go sleep, ma honey, m-m.

A SUMMER LULLABY

BY E. S. BUMSTEAD

The sun has gone from the shining skies; Bye, baby, bye,